CSR
by Fairady
Summary: A collection of unrelated drabbles. Warnings given per chapter.
1. Peace

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters from Gundam Wing. I actually give money to those people, a lot of money. Because I had to buy the damn series three times. One for VHS, one for DVD, and another for when the DVDs were irrepariably lost. So please don't sue me, I'd hate to have to deal with lawyers I helped pay for. 

Warning: None.

Notes: Yeah, this is actually my first fandom, way back when I was a real bad fantard. Fortunately it was also the series that burned most of it outta me. I'm thankful I never got around to writing anything for it before then. I may turn this into another drabble series. Anyway, can be from any of the guys' POV. So pick your poison.

Peace   
by fairady

* * *

It's a strange sort of unreality. It feels like it should be a dream, but every day he gets up and it's still there. The news is filled with reports of rebuilding, interviews with new and hopeful politicians, and a forced looking optimism that took him a week to figure out was genuine.

He does nothing during the day. Clicking from channel to channel, or reading a book that he never really pays attention to. Lunch and dinner are had at a place a few blocks away. The waitresses are already used to him, and more often than not he'll find his usual meal waiting for him when he arrives. At night he'll lay in bed and pretend to sleep the whole nine hours given to him.

It's a routine that he forces himself to follow, despite the voice screaming in his mind that predictable patterns are dangerous. The fact that months pass by and nothing worse than an unexpected rainstorm catches him just adds to the unreality life has taken on.

It leaves him confused and desperate for something, anything that makes sense.

Which is why the call doesn't surprise him. Of course they would wait for him to reach an emotional low before making their offer. Give him just enough time to drown in so that any helping hand would be gratefully seized. Maybe even help it along by setting up guards to make sure nothing happens to disturb him, or keeping a tight hand on the local media to report nothing too exciting.

Which would mean- The wires and cameras are not that hard to find. Not hidden very well, but they didn't need to be. He absently dismantles the little cameras, and still is not surprised to see that it's a short range circuit. Not strong enough to transmit outside of the building, maybe not even the floor.

He hadn't been so lost in the dream-like state to pull away from the world entirely, so he knows exactly which door to go to. It's the only door he has never seen open, and he smiles as he waits for it to open.

He isn't surprised at all. It's what he would have done were he in their position after all. As he waits, feeling like he's finally awake again, he knows it's what he will do in the future.

* * *


	2. MSPaint

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters from Gundam Wing. I actually give money to those people, a lot of money. Because I had to buy the damn series three times. One for VHS, one for DVD, and another for when the DVDs were irrepariably lost. So please don't sue me, I'd hate to have to deal with lawyers I helped pay for. 

Warning: None.

Notes: Just pointless randomness. Yeah, I'm guilty of the, "and they lived happily ever after blowing shit up in the Preventors," mentality. And I don't intend to disrespect Wufei here, be assured that he more than gets his own back later.

MSPaint   
by fairady

* * *

Trowa carefully balanced a pencil on top of the tripod made of pens. It wobbled dangerously but this time stayed up, defiantly defying gravity. Duo quickly clicked a stopwatch on. They watched intently as the pencil kept it's perilous perch. Both held their breath, not wanting to affect the outcome. Slowly the pencil began to list, twisting a bit as it tipped. Momentum was gained as the heavy eraser listed far enough over for gravity to finally regain control.

The pencil, and pens, clattered to the table, and Duo stopped the stopwatch, "Hm, not bad. Stayed up for ten more seconds this time."

Wufei looked up from the report he was filling out as Trowa began to set the tripod up again, "If the two of you are so bored, you could finish your reports for once."

Both men paused and seemed to consider the suggestion. Wufei snorted as Duo did is infamous 'Mime-being-killed-by-over-worked-and-caffeine-deprived-Une,' which was much like his 'You're-sending-me-on-another-stake-out-for-a-corner-store-robber!' act. Trowa finished the tripod and began trying to get the pencil to balance again.

"You're pathetic," Wufei muttered, going back to his report. It had taken the building's network crashing for him to compare how much time his co-workers spent at their computers to the relatively little amount of work they produced. "I did not think the two of you could be so addicted to the internet."

The pencil clattered to the table taking the pens with it. Trowa doggedly set them back up, glancing briefly over at the working man, "I'm not addicted to the internet. I just use it to get up-to-date information."

"Yeah, the internet's always a great place to find out things you never knew," Duo smirked holding one of the pens up. "Like, did you know that Wufei's angry over the fact that she can only wear an A-cup?"

"-what?" Wufei looked up from his report, vaguely horrified. "What the hell have you been looking at, Duo?"

"That's RaversBoiz' page, right?" Trowa got the pencil balanced and the stopwatch clicked on. "Did you see the new picture of his, 'Beloved warrior?'"

Duo snickered, "You kidding? That's the last thing I saw before my screen died! It's so fake looking. I can't believe people think the guy actually knows Wufei."

Wufei could feel his face freezing as the implications became clearer. His lips thinned as the implications under _that_ became clear as well.

Trowa nodded, eyes following the slow descent of the pencil, "Besides, the body used in it is obviously a D-cup. Which contradicts his own statements."

He'd heard enough. The table jerked, prematurely toppling the pencil as Wufei stood up. Gritting his teeth he gathered his reports and marched out of the room directing one last glare behind him, "I hate you."

Duo reset the stopwatch and picked up the pens. "Should we be worried?"

Trowa shrugged spinning the pencil over his fingers. "Not yet. He'll want proof that we really did that before taking action, and with the network down that'll take a few days."

"You're welcome," Duo grinned putting the tripod back together. "We should probably use that time to run, shouldn't we?"

"Yes," Trowa got the pencil balanced just right on the first try, "But not until we break the minute mark."

* * *


	3. Gimp

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters from Gundam Wing. I actually give money to those people, a lot of money. Because I had to buy the damn series three times. One for VHS, one for DVD, and another for when the DVDs were irrepariably lost. So please don't sue me, I'd hate to have to deal with lawyers I helped pay for. 

Warning: None. Oh, wait. My humor.

Notes: So, Wufei wanted his revenge as soon as possible. Typical. And yes, the titles are for the programs each respective team is using for photo-manips. I also realize that I'm taking a bit of a different approach to these characters than usual, do tell me if you like it or not and why.

Gimp   
by fairady

* * *

"It's rather artistic," Trowa finally said.

The trio of cute secretaries scattered. Neither Duo nor Trowa paid their usual attention to them. Trowa tilted his head to the side, his visible eye narrowed thoughtfully. Duo stared intently, his mouth caught between a grin and a grimace.

"Yeah," Duo settled on the grimace. "Who knew Wufei had artistic talent?"

The picture tacked up to the board was kind of artistic if you didn't really think about it too much, or mind the fact that it was just prettied up porn with Duo and Trowa's faces pasted on. Well, edited on. The blurred edges around the neck were barely noticeable, and the head shots had been rather skillfully chosen to match the scene of one man screwing another into a wall.

"You know what this means don't you?" Duo asked grimly nodding at the board.

"That I'm not going on that date with the analyst from the second floor?" Trowa took a drink from his coffee mug.

"Not just that. This," Duo yanked the picture down, "is a declaration of war."

* * *


	4. Cheater

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters from Gundam Wing. I actually give money to those people, a lot of money. Because I had to buy the damn series three times. One for VHS, one for DVD, and another for when the DVDs were irrepariably lost. So please don't sue me, I'd hate to have to deal with lawyers I helped pay for. 

Warning: None. Oh, wait. My humor.

Notes: Yeah, I really got nothing to say. They're just having a bit of fun.

Cheater   
by fairady

* * *

Some things just never change, no matter how much everything else seemed to. Wufei's hands moved smoothly and without any real thought on his part. Thread this here, twist that there; he was sure that even if he died at 105 his hands would still have the muscle memory to do this in his sleep.

The comm in his ear crackled as a line was opened. "Got four, what's your count 05?"

Another thing that hadn't changed, despite numerous reminders of policy, were their names. The numbers were familiar and a lot simpler than the Preventor call signs, and none of them had seen any reason to change them.

"Zero, 02," Wufei murmured quietly. "Check in five."

Static filled his ear as Duo laughed, loud enough to draw attention to himself. Wufei had no doubt that it was on purpose. "Better hurry, or I'll beat you! Out."

The last charge slid into place neatly and he let himself drop to the base of the building's wall. Without pausing he ran to the fence, ducking around one of the many rather conveniently placed trees as the sentry in the tower turned to scan the yard. Wufei snorted, these people were dangerous but they weren't very smart.

Duo was on the other side of the base, slowly picking through the group of terrorists they were in the midst of eliminating. He was probably only making his fifth kill, using every bit of his formidable infiltration skills to keep himself well ahead of Wufei in their little game. There was no way Wufei could get inside the base and catch up to him without being caught, which would guarantee Duo a free meal at wherever he chose to go afterwards.

_If_ he went in. _If_ he played the game to according to Duo's rules.

It took him a minute to dig out a rock the size of his fist from the ground near his feet, but the weight was perfect. It was almost like it had been placed there specifically for him to throw at the motion sensor fixed on the fence fifty meters away. The tree was also perfectly placed to keep him hidden, even as an alarm sounded and the area around the building lit up.

Wufei waited patiently for three minutes, just long enough for them to gather to panic, before pressing the detonator. The charges planted outside the wall of the group's main OPs room, and he really wanted to know what idiot had thought that would be a good place to put it, went off without a hitch.

The comm line snapped open again, letting Duo's colorful cursing of his questionable ancestry through. Wufei finally let his lips curl up in a self-satisfied smirk. He wasn't sure of the exact count, but he was pretty damn sure it was more than five.

* * *


	5. Not the Quicker Picker Upper

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters from Gundam Wing. I actually give money to those people, a lot of money. Because I had to buy the damn series three times. One for VHS, one for DVD, and another for when the DVDs were irrepariably lost. So please don't sue me, I'd hate to have to deal with lawyers I helped pay for. 

Warning: None. Oh, wait. My humor.

Notes: You know I've got a pack of these in my house, and it's true. They absorb for shit, but make great bandages.

Not the Quicker Picker Upper   
by fairady

-

-

"Dammit!" Duo swore loudly emptying the entire contents of the med-kit onto the table next to the bed. Syringes, needles, thread, and various bottles of stuff scattered onto the top. Only one pitiful looking excuse of a bandage fell out. He looked at the scrap in dismay before turning back to the bed and it's injured occupant. "Trowa, I think you really need to restock your kit."

Trowa, still out cold, didn't answer, but the heavily bleeding wound on his upper arm seemed to silently agree. The stitches were barely doing anything to slow down the flow. Duo'd really been hoping he could use a pressure dressing to control it.

Duo turned and began to tear through the various cabinets and boxes that littered the safe house. Anything he'd find in the dusty ruins would be better than trying to use the rags of their own clothing. That was a last resort, he already had plans for using the gas soaked clothing as wicks for Molotov's.

One particularly pathetic box yielded a generic package of paper napkins. At least it was more sterile than their clothing. Duo looked at the plastic packaging skeptically before tearing it off with a snort. "Soft and absorbent my ass."

The paper towels looked as soft and absorbent as cardboard. Looking closer it became apparent that the spots he'd first taken as a really ugly design were actually bits of wood.

"Sorry, buddy," Duo said to the unconscious pilot as he set the stack down. "This isn't gonna feel pleasant, but look on the bright side! I don't think there's anything better suited to keep blood from leaking out than this stuff."

The paper towels wrapped stiffly around Trowa's arm. Duo pressed it close to the wound until some of the blood managed to seep into the paper and hold it closer. A few more layers helped to seal it off, and the one scrap of a bandage left made a good tie for it.

A few spots of red seeped through, but otherwise the improvised bandage held up rather well. Duo grinned to himself and tossed the left over paper into the med-kit. "Hey, whatever works."

-

-


	6. Dinner Time

Disclaimer: I neither own nor make money off of the characters from Gundam Wing. I actually give money to those people, a lot of money. Because I had to buy the damn series three times. One for VHS, one for DVD, and another for when the DVDs were irrepariably lost. So please don't sue me, I'd hate to have to deal with lawyers I helped pay for.

Warning: None. Oh, wait. My humor.

Notes: A drabble that gave birth to an actual fic that is in progress right now. Basically, Duo and Trowa needed to hide out, and my demented brain put them in the den of some lions in a zoo. And why is now suddenly not letting me use italics?

Dinner Time  
by fairady

-

-

"Trowa," Duo carefully modulated his voice to keep it soothing and absolutely not letting his nervousness show through it. "He's looking at me again."

"So he is," Trowa didn't even open his eyes. He was stretched out comfortably on the ground, and looked ready to nod off at any moment.

Which would definitely be bad for Duo. Trowa was the only reason Duo was still alive. He didn't care how at ease Trowa was, they were in a fucking lions den and the biggest, baddest lion was looking at Duo like he was some tasty lion kibble! Trowa was not going to sleep and leaving Duo to fend for himself.

Duo pressed himself against the wall harder, hoping somehow that he could press himself right through it. "Make him stop it. Right now."

"Duo," Trowa sighed, one eye finally deigning to slit open, "he's not going to eat you."

"That's easy for you to say," Duo fought to keep his voice low and level. His shouting earlier had brought the beast over, and he didn't want to see what more shouting would do. "You're like his best friend or something, I'm just meat."

A strangled noise escaped Trowa, and it took Duo a minute to realize that it was a quiet snicker. The bastard was laughing at him! Indignation allowed him to turn away from possible fangs of death and glare at the other man.

Trowa sat up, mouth still curling a little and pulled Duo down next to him, "He's bored, and we're interesting. If you sit still, he'll lose interest."

That didn't really help to reassure Duo as he now wondered if the beast wanted to play with them. In a bloody and painful way. The fit in the cave was a bit tight, but it gave Duo the assurance that if the lion decided to sample human meat Trowa would be in trouble too.

"Just for the record," Duo said pleasantly, "this is the last time I ever listen to any of your ideas."

Trowa tilted his head back and smiled slightly.

-

-


	7. Cultural Differences

Disclaimer: Don't own or make money off of these characters and series. Please look elsewhere for that.

Warnings: My own humor.

Notes: Eh, not much to say. Short, random piece about absolutely nothing.

Cultural Differences  
by fairady

* * *

Quatre was well aware of the fact that his fellow pilots were from a wide and varied range of cultural and social backgrounds. It was a fact that he had become rather _painfully_ aware of very early on in their acquaintance when there had been several... miscommunications.

Those had been rough times for them. They were pilots though, and they did what they did best. Adjusted.

Quatre in particular had become adept at that. Of the lot of them he knew he was probably the best at translating through all their cultural differences to set things straight. Which was one of the reasons why he didn't even blink when he walked in on Duo and Trowa drinking.

He _did_ give them a reproachful look though. As their host it was his responsibility to take care of them, and he hated dealing with hung-over pilots. "How much have you two had?"

Duo's grin was wide and bright, even though his gaze was fixed firmly to the right of where Quatre was standing. "We just had a bit to drink. No harm in that!"

Translation: We were playing a drinking game.

Quatre closed his eyes and did his best to not wonder how they got the alcohol in the first place. It was a cultural difference, he reminded himself. "How much?"

"Not much, just about," Duo used two fingers to measure out a distance in centimeters, "yay much?"

Behind him Trowa measured out a second opinion. In inches. With a diameter.

Translation: We forgot the rules to the drinking game.

"Duo," Quatre sighed but didn't say anything else. "Come on then, let's get you to bed."

"Um, yeah, about that," Duo grinned. "I'm liking this couch too much for my own good, so how about I just sleep here tonight?"

Translation: My legs aren't working right and if you try to carry me I'll make it hell for you.

Quatre turned to the other pilot for help, "Trowa, help me here."

"The couch is nice," Trowa said while pointedly not looking at anyone.

Translation: Ditto.

Quatre blinked and sighed again, "How much did you have?"

Trowa used two fingers to measure out a distance in centimeters. In front of him, Duo quite cheerfully measured out a second opinion. In inches. With a diameter.

Translation: Yeah, those drinking rules flew right out the window after the second bottle.

Quatre closed his eyes and gave up. Shaking his head he turned towards his room, "There's a bathroom down the hall on the left."

Hopefully they were coherent enough to translate that to: I'm not cleaning your puke up in the morning.

* * *


	8. 6 Ways Duo Maxwell Never Died

Disclaimer: I own not and make no money off of this.

Warnings: Character death.

Notes: Because even the God of Death has luck and chance to be thankful for.

6 Ways Duo Maxwell Never Died  
by Fairady

.

.

The boy was slumped over in an unnatural position.

No one paid any attention to the dirty figure as they walked around him. No eyes spared him so much as a second glance. Street kids were everywhere and not smart enough to stave of starvation was a common sight on L2.

.

.

The antibiotics come too late.

Duo had known that from the look on Sayid's face when Quatre sent news of his ETA. Even out of his mind with fever and pain, a part of Duo's mind was aware enough to mark the strange expression on the Maganac's face and interpret it.

Duo was going to die. Not in battle or out in space like he'd always thought he would, but tied to a cot sweating and screaming as the deadly infection seeped into his system from the putrid remnants of his leg.

Blood poisoning, gangrene, infection. One hastily bandaged bullet hole that he'd stupidly not taken care of when he had the chance. Duo laughed as the needle slid into his skin. Watching Sayid and Quatre's faces swim in his failing vision. Holding onto that last sight as he died.

.

.

The first time it was G. The spotty old fucker had known Duo's plan from the start and gotten to the detonators before Duo'd even cracked the locks on the explosives.

The second time it was Howard. The crazy bastard had never liked the self-destruct system and had not made a secret of it. It was Duo's own fault for letting him close to it and not bothering to make sure it hadn't been tampered with afterwards.

The third time- Well, Duo'd made sure there wouldn't be a third time.

He'd taken off for a few days and went over his Gundam with a magnifying glass and fine toothed comb. Fixing the overrides and putting his buddy back into working order. So the third time Duo held a detonator he smiled, because there wasn't a doubt in his mind that the soft click would be the last sound he heard.

.

.

Duo slammed into the wall and gasped as the impact set off an explosion of pain. His knees gave out and he slowly slid to the ground, leaving a slick streak of blood on the wall. A thin one because there wasn't much of the stuff left in him.

"Damn," he closed his eyes against the whirling world and distantly noted he'd gotten a grand total of five feet away from his last fall. Not bad for a guy going into shock. Duo's lips twitched as he choked on a laugh. Eyes closing one last time.

.

.

Suffocating wasn't a bad way to go, all things considered. There was no pain to it at least. Sure, it was pretty undignified and boring as hell, but it sure beat out a lot of other ways to die.

Duo could do with better company though.

He rolled his head over to look at Wufei who hadn't moved from his spot. He was utterly relaxed and looked utterly serene. Duo wondered if he was already dead, but couldn't muster up the energy to check. It'd taken everything he had just to look at the guy.

He was probably alive anyway. Hell, he'd probably be alive long after Duo knocked off. Meditation made people breath less didn't it? Or was that trances? Hypnotism, self-hypnotism? Whatever. He was sure that Wufei was doing it.

Duo sighed out a breath and fought to drag another in. Spots dotting his vison, already going gray, as he realized nothing was coming in. Not enough to stop the black wave from rolling across his eyes dragging him into an unnatural sleep that he knew he'd never wake up from.

.

.

Duo looked down at his hand -splayed flat on the ground- and willed himself to push up. To get up and get moving. His fingers twitched and the effort of even doing that much made his head swim twice as fast.

He choked on a laugh as he realized this was it. Shinigami was going to finally die. Alone and bleeding out in the cell of some OZ base. Shot by a fellow pilot no less! And wasn't that a shit kicker? The guy he'd shot and failed to kill had returned the favor. With better aim.

Duo laughed until he couldn't anymore. Until all that escaped him was the frail wheeze of his final breath.

.

.


End file.
